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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26189179">It used to be wrong to pretend that everything was okay.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatATime/pseuds/WhatATime'>WhatATime</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(possibly), Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Batfamily (DCU), Batfamily (DCU) Feels, Batfamily Dynamics (DCU), Batfamily-centric (DCU), Blood and Injury, Bruce Wayne is a Bad Parent, Domestic Violence, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I'm still figuring some things out, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 05:55:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,729</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26189179</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatATime/pseuds/WhatATime</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It used to be wrong to pretend that everything was okay. Now it’s assumed. Maybe that’s why Damian and Tim are sitting on the roof of a building in Blüdhaven and deciding that their story is that they came for ice cream (and nothing else).</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bruce Wayne &amp; Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson &amp; Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd &amp; Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake &amp; Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake &amp; Dick Grayson &amp; Bruce Wayne &amp; Damian Wayne, Tim Drake &amp; Dick Grayson &amp; Jason Todd &amp; Bruce Wayne &amp; Damian Wayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>296</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Coming (Tim, Dami, + Dick)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For the record, I love good dad Bruce and usually write good dad Bruce, but I'm trying to do something here and work through some stuff, so just know that.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It used to be wrong to pretend that everything was okay. Now it’s assumed. Maybe that’s why Damian and Tim are sitting on the roof of a building in Blüdhaven and deciding that their story is that they came for ice cream (and nothing else).</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sighing, Tim wraps an arm around Damian.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Despite his initial tensing, Damian leans into the embrace.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He should be here soon. He finishes up around this time most nights.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No answer comes from Damian.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Damian answers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They sit some more. Dick comes around twelve minutes later than Tim had estimated, and his hair is a little messier than Damian remembers, but his smile is the same and hugs are just as tight. “Hey, little birds,” Dick greets.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before he can bend down to sweep them into hugs, Damian and Tim stand, both tucking themselves under one of his arms. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m still a little sweaty,” Dick warns.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s fine,” Tim says. He sighs again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Damian’s breathing is so slight both Tim and Dick listen for the wheeze. As they walk down and back into the building, Damian turns his face more into Dick’s side.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, to what do I owe this pleasure?” Dick asks, unlocking the door to his apartment and letting them inside. He gives each of his brothers a tight squeeze before releasing them to start stripping. Already in their civvies, Tim and Damian settle down on the couch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nothing, really— Thought some ice cream would be nice.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Although he’s nodding, Dick doesn’t seem to believe the story. “How’s B?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine.” Damian replies this time, the first word he’s said to Dick and fourth one he’s said since he and Tim set out towards Blüdhaven. His voice is scratchy, distorted by a sore throat and a hesitancy Damian never displays.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stepping into his sweatpants, Dick asks, “What happened?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tim shakes his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Damian shrugs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To break the silence, Tim takes Damian’s hand and drags him over to the kitchen side of Dick’s small apartment. They fish some ice cream out of the freezer and fix three bowls, though neither of their stomachs feel at ease enough to eat anything.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really, guys, what happened?” Dick leans over the bar and pulls his bowl towards himself. “I mean, I know you love me and all, but this is sort of impromptu,” </span>
  <em>
    <span>and nothing seems right.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Dick only thinks the last part, but they can hear it clearly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bruce is mad,” Tim says. “Bruce is really mad, so we came here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dick snorts. “When isn’t Bruce mad?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know… I just… We thought coming here would be cool for a bit.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“‘Course it’s cool. You know I’m a curious little bird, though. What happened to make B so upset?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know really. It may just be a lot of stuff, and tonight was a boiling point. He kind of snapped at the beginning of patrol.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Snapped,” Dick echoes. He knows Bruce better and longer than any of them. He sifts through his own less than savory memories and outbursts he and Bruce’d had to see if he could guess what they’re talking about. Tim isn’t saying much, and Damian isn’t saying anything it all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looks them over. Tim’s head is fine, but he has one of his hands laid on the counter as if he can’t hold it up quite right, </span>
  <em>
    <span>sprained wrist maybe. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Bundled from outside’s cool, Damian is mostly covered, but Dick can see purple and blue peeking from under the scarf. The injuries don’t bring any rogues to mind at first glance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who’d you guys run into tonight?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, you have to promise you won’t do anything.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dick has enough anger without seeing someone hurt his two little brothers. If Tim thinks whoever did it isn’t going to pay, he’s mistaken. Of course, that’s probably why he’s trying to get Dick to promise beforehand. That’s not going to happen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know I can’t promise that,” Dick says. He turns his gaze to Damian.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The kid’s shoulders are slumped, blue-tinted lips pressed into a tight line.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dami?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Grayson,” Damian returns quietly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fifth word.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who did it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t seem like Damian can shrink much more, but he does.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who?” Dick repeats.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Father.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One beat. Two beats. Three beats.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“B?” Dick’s fingers loosen their grip on his metal spoon.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“B,” Tim confirms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All of a sudden the air is sharper, and Dick can feel himself flaring— any thought but bashing Bruce’s bones in eluding him. He crushes his hands into fists. He wants to leave now, but he can tell by the looks on his brothers’ faces that he can’t.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He swallows it down. It travels through his throat in a painful lump. Dick wonders if the same lump is in Tim and Damian’s throats, too. He pushes the ice cream away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wrapping around the counter, Damian comes to Dick’s side again. This time he braids his fingers through one of Dick’s hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Will you tell me more?” Dick asks quietly, without force.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Damian shakes his head. “No.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, we can do this later, then. How about now?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Finish your ice cream.” With those words, Damian begins to relax more, doesn’t seem so tight as he sits on the stool next to Dick’s. He waits.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Resting his chin on his arms, Tim does the same.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dick decides he’s putting his brothers to bed after this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Damian’s pulse is still racing, and Dick notices his wrist is bare. This wouldn’t seem odd except for the fact that Damian wears the watch Bruce got him for his birthday whenever he’s not in Robin gear, even to bed. He usually does anyway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dick doesn’t say anything, but he can tell Damian notices.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not wearing it anymore,” Damian tells him. “It hurts my wrist.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“First it seeped in, and then I felt the poison wrapping around my veins and choking them.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Like he choked me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This all seems scarily right but also wrong.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s more to inspect. He’ll figure this out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Breaking away from the counter, Tim says, “I’m not going to bed yet.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where are you going, then?” Dick asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have other stuff.” Tim tugs on the laptop bag slung around his chest. That’s Tim. He makes himself busy. He probably brought Damian here so that Dick could make Damian busy. That and to find somewhere quiet for the storm in his mind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dami and I’ll watch a movie, right?” Turning to Damian, Dick grins.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Damian doesn’t smile back but does nod.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tomorrow, Dick will go to Gotham.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. To Gotham (Jason + Dick)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>As Dick drives through the long, winding road that leads to Wayne Manor, he squeezes the steering wheel tighter and strings a breath through his nose and out of his mouth. He needs to stay calm if he’s going to unravel the mystery.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>As Dick drives through the long, winding road that leads to Wayne Manor, he squeezes the steering wheel tighter and strings a breath through his nose and out of his mouth. He needs to stay calm if he’s going to unravel the mystery.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Soon he’s pulling up into the front and then entering. The smell of lemon permeates his nostrils as he drags his hand across the staccato walls. When he enters the cave, they leave him, and he’s left with cold.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Opening his mouth, Dick begins to call Bruce but then decides against it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At the bottom of the stairs, he sees Jason sitting on the floor by one of the computers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Jay.” Dick leans against the railing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a moment, Jason turns to Dick, rolls his eyes. “Dick.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’re you doing here?” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Does Jason know?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What? I’m not allowed to be here and hang out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, I was just wondering. You’re hanging out, then?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure.” Jason flicks something off of his jacket. “What’re you doing here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Looking for B. Is he here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No. Why’re you looking for him?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before Dick can answer, Alfred emerges beside him with a silver tray that has a plate of cookies and two glasses of milk. “Master Dick, Mastor Jason,” Alfred says. Once he reaches the bottom of the stairs, he goes over to a table and sets the tray down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alfred, where’s Bruce?” Dick asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s off.” Alfred fixes his gloves and pivots to head back up the stairs. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He’s off.</span>
  </em>
  <span> No more. No less. It’s obvious Alfred knows where Bruce is. And it’s also obvious Bruce told him not to disclose it as Alfred disappears up the stairs again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh,” Jason murmurs. Standing, he slinks over to the table and swipes a couple of cookies.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you know where he went?” Dick asks Jason.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, why would I?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just asking.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why’re you looking for B?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I need to talk to him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Talk to him about what?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dick isn’t sure if he should tell Jason. A part of him wants to keep last night close, but another wants Jason to be mad as well, knowing Bruce would feel it even more if that were the case. “Some stuff went down last night with Tim and Dami.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stuff with Bruce,” Jason nods. “What stuff?” He meets Dick’s eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um…” Dick doesn’t know how to phrase it. Even Tim and Damian used so few words the night before. He glanced around. Was Alfred listening? Dick knew Alfred was aware. Alfred sees all, hears all. “Walk me out?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a sigh, Jason frowned but agreed to walk with Dick out of the manor. They walked back through the immaculate house and zing of lemon and to Dick’s car. “So what happened?” Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Jason sighed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pulling out his phone, Dick unlocks it before handing it to Jason. Rather than wait beside him, Dick slides over and gets into the car. He swallows, curses.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then Jason’s opening the door to the passenger seat and getting inside, his fist around Dick’s phone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stabbing the key into the ignition, Dick says, “I’m going back to Blüd for now. They’re at my place.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah.” Jason hoists his legs onto the dash.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They drive off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yesterday?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Where's Dami (Mostly Dick + Dami, a little Tim + Jay)?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“I can handle things on my own.”</p><p>“I know, but you shouldn’t have to. I can do it for you.”</p><p>“I don’t need things done for me.”</p><p>“It’s not always about need, Damian.”</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Absence is noted. Have you noted the absence, yet? It’s the youngest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tim, where’s Damian?” Dick asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I— Uh, I don’t know. He’d been sleeping in the bedroom, and then I went to check on him, and he was gone. Don’t know where he went.” Tim’s tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth. He peers at Jason. “What’re you doing here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What? I’m not allowed to be here?” Biting the inner portion of his bottom lip, Jason peers back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tim shrugs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After dragging himself a short distance across the carpet, Jason plops down next to Tim, wraps an arm around the kid.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No one mentions Tim’s wince.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We need to find Dami.” Dick pulls his phone out and begins texting him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You may just let him cool off a bit, Dick, you know?” Tim suggests. “He probably slipped out for a reason.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I need to know where he is. Don’t we have a tracker on him or something?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We did. He took it off.” Leaning into Jason’s embrace, Tim tucks his feet under himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dick and Jason’s eyes meet, and they agree.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, I’ll go look for him.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>You guys stay here.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good luck,” Jason snorts, twiddling his fingers in a wave goodbye.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah yeah,” Dick mutters as he turns to leave the apartment. He’s making the assumption that Damian isn’t in uniform, which may be a poor one, but it’s the one he’s going with right now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He browses through the places Damian can usually be found: their usual ice cream place, the patrol rendezvous, alleys with stray cats. Damian doesn’t turn up at any of them. Parking outside a cafe, Dick calls Damian.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What?”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Why he didn’t call in the first place Dick doesn’t know. But Damian’s answer could be the reason. “Hey, Little D.” Dick puts the phone on speaker and texts Tim and Jason to start tracing the signal. “How are you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What do you want, Grayson?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Damian asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m mostly wondering where you are, but by how you left, I’m not sure if you’re ready to divulge that at this moment.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A pause. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“No.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I figured as much. What’re you doing?” Dick’s tone is smooth, usual. He doesn’t see any reason to act as if anything isn’t normal, not right now anyway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m out.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Out where?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Tt, it’s not your concern right now.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know we’re already tracking you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“There’s no need. I’m fine.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tim and Jason respond: no dice. Stifling a sigh, Dick holds the phone to his ear again. “Fine, huh?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Fine.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought you and I were going to talk a little more when I got back.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Did you?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> There aren’t any noises around Damian. His breathing is even, so he’s probably not running. His tone is quieter, but Damian is never loud on the phone with Dick.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I did. When will you be back?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Are you at your apartment?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why? Are you on your way back?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No. I am in Blüdhaven, though.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m coming back into town.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why’d you go?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I had to take care of some things.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re being pretty vague, bud.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“And you’re sitting outside Brenda’s.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Am I?” Dick sees Damian emerge from the darkness in one of the side view mirrors. “Bastard,” he chuckles, hanging up the phone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Damian gets into the passenger seat. He’s in different clothes than Dick last saw him in, but it’s not one of the outfits he keeps at Dick’s place, and neither Tim nor Damian brought bags, so where he got them from is yet another mystery for Dick to solve.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There you are.” Dick gives Damian a hug. It’s half-accepted, Damian’s shoulder turning away while his arm reaches around Dick. “Where’ve you been?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have to disclose all my whereabouts to you.” The right corner of Damian’s mouth is curved up into a counterfeit smirk. Pulling away, Damian composes himself and pulls his knees to his chest. He lets out a stringy breath.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dames.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Richard.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s going on?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I had to handle a few things was all. And I had to go while you were gone and without Drake’s knowledge because security was— and still is— of the utmost importance.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Importance? Really?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can we go?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure, sure…” Putting the car into gear, Dick pulls back into the street and begins on the path to his apartment. “You know, Jay came. He’s over at my place with Tim.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Todd?” Damian’s tone seems more worried than surprised. Whenever Damian isn’t so sure about something, the octave of his voice doesn’t change, but there’s a vocal fry that sits like sediment at the bottom of it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He kind of… Yeah, anyway he’s there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You shouldn’t have said anything to him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He was there. He would’ve found out. Besides, we need to handle these things.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can handle myself. If I’d had it my way, we never would have come here in the first place.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Never?” The words sting a bit, Dick can’t deny it. He knows Damian doesn’t like to be vulnerable, but he would like to think that something so sensitive would be shared with him. However mature, they’re still children, his brothers. And he wants to protect them. He wants to protect them and right every wrong. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Damian’s preoccupation has always been to handle things himself, to show no weakness. Originally, Dick had thought that most of why Tim and Damian showed up on his roof was for Damian, but maybe it was Tim.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All that aside, even if Damian doesn’t want Dick, he has Dick. And Dick’s not going away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When they get back to the building, Damian latches onto Dick’s side again, crumples his fingers around the corner of Dick’s jacket. As they walk up, he says, “I can handle things on my own.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know, but you shouldn’t have to. I can do it for you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need things done for me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not always about need, Damian.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Damian goes silent after that. When they get back to the apartment, he doesn’t greet Jason or bicker with Tim, just stays straddled to Dick through everything in the boys’ makeshift night ‘routine.’ Tim and Jason end up on the sofa, playing some game with unsaid rules.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With that, Dick leads Damian off into the bedroom. They sit on the bed, and the comforter is cold from the long absence. In the middle of the bed, they sit facing each other, fingers intertwined in the center and legs folded under them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dick starts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you going to tell me now?” he asks Damian.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not for telling.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’d like to know where you went and what you did.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because someone needs to know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, because you feel the need to know so that you can protect me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you know why, then what was asking for?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Damian’s jaw tightens, its square becoming even crisper against the light of the bedside lamp. It’s just like Bruce’s but bruised. The bruise is faint but lines his cheek and leads down Damian’s neck to a messier, more pigmented splatter of abuse.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Running his fingers across it, Dick sighs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s off at the Watchtower, you know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who told you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I figured it out myself.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you go?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And did you see him?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And did anyone see you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course not. I’ve some discretion left despite you and Drake’s best attempts.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dick’s grip on Damian’s hands tighten. “And what did he say? What did you say?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We didn’t speak. I just caught his attention while he was walking towards something. I don’t think he… I don’t think he had time to…” Damian swallows. Dick can’t imagine how hard that lump must feel. It’s still in his throat, and no one even had their hands around it. “We didn’t speak.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you want to?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think I did, no.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why not?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Damian’s long lashes cast a shadow over his cheeks. “I believe that I view this much differently than you or Todd or Drake.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How so?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I earned something last night.” He looks up at Dick. His eyes ask for an understanding Dick can’t give. “When I was younger, I would often ask my mother who my father was. I would ask why my mother never told me stories about him, if he was a king, how to meet him. And she told me… One day she told me that I would meet him when I earned the right to, the right to know him and meet him. I earned the right to know the real Batman. That’s something I can respect.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Respect.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not something you respect, Damian.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe not,” Damian answers. “But maybe so.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Mixed Company (Dick, Tim, + Jason)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Resilient ones, Dick thinks. But why wouldn’t they be?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Gosh,” Dick mutters. Opening his eyes, he glances down at Damian. The boy is wrapped in Dick’s comforter and asleep in the middle of the bed in a firm ball. Dick tucks the comforter under Damian’s chin. Standing, he has half a mind to cuff Damian to the bed, but he decides against it and just slips Damian’s phone in his pocket with a hope that Damian wouldn’t leave without it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As he walks into the hallway, he hears Tim and Jason’s hushed voices.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I mean, it wasn’t anything we didn’t usually say, you know?” There’s a slight wobble in Tim’s tone, and Dick can now tell he’s talking about the previous night.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’d he do?” Jason asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dick hasn’t heard the event in detail, only small things from Tim and Damian, enough to paint a blurry picture. It seems Tim is about to tell Jason the whole thing. Dick waits.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was like… Well, you know— I was lagging a little because I nicked my ankle while we were at this one warehouse in the East End District. It wasn’t much or anything, and we were calling it a night. B wanted to go look at the scene of a murder by the LexCorp Project, so we were heading there. Damian asked me about it, and I said I was fine. Then B said to go home, but we were about to go back anyway, so I said I’d stay, and then…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So he did it over that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, no.” Tim’s words were rushed. “It wasn’t that. I think it may have bothered him a little, though. Honestly, I don’t know what exactly set him off— Usually I can read him but not this time. He just kind of… Well he snapped.” Swallowing, Tim finishes. “Hard.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I mean, that much is clear, Timmers. But what exactly did he do?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I dunno. It was— I mean, he’s pretty fast.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Go on.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jason is silent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why, Jay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Only this one will be doubly proportional.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t do anything. It’s not— He’ll just… Don’t do anything.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before Jason can answer, Dick emerges from the hallway. He can tell by their faces that they hadn’t seen him, that Tim is trying to calculate how much Dick heard.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Dick says, settling on the arm of the sofa next to Tim.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What did he say?” Jason asks Dick, referring to Damian. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think he understands,” Dick says, sighing and shaking his head. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “He said he respects it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Respects it.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Kid’s nuts.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He just doesn’t understand. I hate to say it, but I think he’s just used to it. Ra’s and Talia and the League and… and now Bruce.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jason curses.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So what’re you going to do about it?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know yet. What do you guys think?” Dick ruffles Tim’s hair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shrugging, Tim pulls his laptop from under his leg. As the screen comes to life, he begins typing. Who knows what about. Dick figures it’s something to keep his mind off things. Tim can only do talking in short spurts, the vulnerability too much.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Damian said Bruce is at the Watchtower, but I don’t know if he’s still there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s where he went, huh?” Jason cracks his knuckles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He may not still be there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He probably is,” Tim says quietly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dick isn’t sure how to move forward with any of this. It doesn’t seem like Bruce plans on coming back into town anytime soon. Purposefully so, Dick now knows. The bastard. In the time being, he needs to figure out what to do with his little brothers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t mind them staying, but they’d probably be more comfortable back at the manor. What safeguards does he need to put in place? How does he keep some sort of leash on Damian? What will he say to Bruce when Bruce returns?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I say we go to the Watchtower now. Take care of this.” Jason is thinking along the same lines Dick is, but he’s different, more direct. Sometimes Dick wishes he could handle things like Jason, but there’s always too much shrapnel and collateral with explosions. He needs to contain things better than that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, that’s stupid,” Tim answers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why’s that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If he’s there, he obviously doesn’t want us to bother him. Plus other League members are there. We don’t want to discuss things in mixed company.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Mixed company?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jason scoffs. “I think it needs to be done in mixed company. They have a right to know.” Anger flares in Jason’s eyes, flames billowing in his blues.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Meeting Jason’s eyes, Dick shakes his head. ‘Not here,’ he mouths. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not with Tim.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rolling his eyes, Jason settles down, lets out a long breath with another string of curses.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m going back to the manor tomorrow.” Tim doesn’t turn to Dick exactly, but it’s clear he’s talking to him. “And I’m patrolling.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure we are,” Jason says, glancing at Dick. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll take Tim.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dami might want to stay longer.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He won’t,” Tim says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jason chuckles. “How are you so sure?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He won’t.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He didn’t want to come, did he?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then why did he?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because I made him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea right now, Tim,” Dick says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Listen, I get you guys are in Big Brother Mode and all, but we’re fine now, and we’re going to go back.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And what’ll you do?” Jason challenges.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What I always do. Take care of things. Something that happens even when you guys aren’t around.” Tim’s eyes don’t leave his laptop. The blue light flickers against his face. Dick and Jason watch it in the silence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dick means to be around more than he is, and he knows Jason does, too. That’s not an excuse, though, is it? Tim shouldn’t have to take care of things. He should have them for that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Suck it up,” Tim sing-songs, a grin creeping onto his face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Resilient ones,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Dick thinks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>But why wouldn’t they be?</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Watchtower Moment (Dami + Bruce)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This denotes where Damian Wayne was, though not where he is.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> This denotes where Damian Wayne was, though not where he is. </em>
</p><p>The first thing Damian does when he wakes up is swallow. It hurts. It hurts, and his saliva feels like knives as it drips down his abused throat. Letting out a small groan, he picks himself up off of the Dick’s bed and swings his legs over the side.</p><p> </p><p>For a moment Damian just sits there, breathes. In and out. In and out.</p><p> </p><p>He needs to go.</p><p> </p><p>Peeking out of the room, he sees Tim, Jason, and Dick are asleep, the television light flickering against their limp faces. Damian hovers over as considers leaving a note, but he ends up deciding against it and dons his Robin suit instead.</p><p> </p><p>Then he’s off.</p><p> </p><p>Some would think it’s difficult to access a portal to the Watchtower. Damian finds it quite easy, but he doesn’t know if it’s because he’s heir to the two greatest men in the world or because it actually is. Still, it doesn’t take him long to find a portal and shoots himself up.</p><p> </p><p>Pulling up a map of the place on his gloves, he begins walking through. He doesn’t know where his father is here, just that the Batman is somewhere in the Watchtower.</p><p> </p><p>“Damian?”</p><p> </p><p>When he first hears his name, he keeps walking, knowing reacting to his name while in uniform isn’t the best move. The footsteps behind him are heavy, and whoever is talking has a laugh gathered in his throat.</p><p> </p><p>“Robin, wait up!” The footsteps get faster. Then Superman is next to Damian, his face beaming. “Hey, if I’d known you would be here with Batman today, I would’ve brought Superboy with me. I can call Lois and see if he’s done with his homework. He has to finish that on the weekends first, but he can come after.”</p><p> </p><p>“That is not necessary, but thank you.” Damian continues walking.</p><p> </p><p>Clark walks with him. “So, how’s school?”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine.”</p><p> </p><p>“Gotham?”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine.”</p><p> </p><p>“Your brothers?”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, that’s all good. If you’re looking for Batman, he’s in the mainframe fixing some tech glitches.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine, thank you.” Speeding up his pace, Damian left Clark and headed there. Fixing the mainframe, in Damian’s opinion, is a job for someone lesser than the Batman. His father must be doing it on purpose, performing some craven attempt to avoid his children.</p><p> </p><p>When he gets to the mainframe room, his father is knelt in front of a deconstructed control panel and weaving wires, sparks flickering with each precise movement.</p><p> </p><p>“Batman,” Damian said.</p><p> </p><p>Bruce doesn’t stop, but Damian can tell he sees him. </p><p> </p><p>“Batman.” </p><p> </p><p>No answer still.</p><p> </p><p>“Father.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Robin?”</p><p> </p><p>Clamming up, Damian stayed silent as he tried to figure out what else to say. He approached his father, stood solidly beside the computer and crossed his arms. He told himself he’d count down and then say something. 3… 2… 1… “I didn’t want to go.”</p><p> </p><p>“Go where?”</p><p> </p><p>“To Blüdhaven. Red made me.”</p><p> </p><p>“You all went to Nightwing’s place?” </p><p> </p><p><em> Surely he knew, </em>Damian thought. “Yes.” </p><p> </p><p>“Hn.”</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t want to go, but he insisted. I didn’t want to do that or stay or anything, but I’m sure you can understand I had little to no choice in the matter. They treat me like a child.”</p><p> </p><p>“You are a child.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not, but I won’t bother defending that at this moment.”</p><p> </p><p>No answer again.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s also very likely Nightwing will be trying to visit you.”</p><p> </p><p>His father’s fingers tense.</p><p> </p><p>“He insisted on documenting the affair as well, though I didn't want to.” Damian sighed. “Really, I didn’t want any of this.”</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t either,” his father answers quietly. “I didn’t either.”</p><p> </p><p>Nodding, Damian takes a seat, folded his hands in his lap.</p><p> </p><p>“Why are you here, Damian?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know.”</p><p> </p><p>Another bout of silence.</p><p> </p><p>“May I stay?”</p><p> </p><p>Batman doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t make Damian go either.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be better.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I never asked you to.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But I want to be.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine.” </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is the end. Not as drawn out, not as sappy, not as [insert the elements of a satisfying ending here]. Oh well.</p><p>You can yell at me on tumblr if you like: whatatime30.tumblr.com</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>To be continued...</p></blockquote></div></div>
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